


Synthetic

by Krimsen



Category: Blur
Genre: Gramon, M/M, blur - Freeform, dont teach anybody how to pick a lock, hopeless damon, jesus christ - Freeform, or maybe you should, pre-blur, really really edgy damon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-20 04:22:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11913111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krimsen/pseuds/Krimsen
Summary: He’s fucking himself up more and more. ‘Love never felt so good’, they say. He thinks it’s bullshit.





	1. Distance

He’ll feel it when he fixes his gaze on him. He’ll feel it when he hovers closer to him. He’ll feel it when their bodies touch, he’ll feel it whenever images of him lingers in his mind. It’s making him feel anxious and hopeful. Desperation crawls, whenever he sees him. Too scared, too horror-struck to confess sentiments and know the truth.

Damon’s been torturing himself.

Over the years of their friendship, he never thought this would happen. This fucking mess of things he had on his mind now. Those touches and kisses were supposed to be friendly. Those sweet moments shared together were supposed to be friendly. Now, it’s different. Now, his own feelings for Graham has changed his beliefs. Delusional and afraid, his relationship with the boy was creeping to an unknown climax. Would it break? Would it suffice? As his strong emotions for him threatens to spill, Damon, agonizingly, slowly… begins to distance himself from Graham.

He doesn’t know what to do. Distancing himself from the boy was by far the greatest option. He wouldn’t try to confess, no. Last time he thought about even doing it only had his hands on the rim of the toilet, spilling his stomach’s contents out of his mouth. overall; a restless night.

Holding disdain for himself, days pass by. He could only tug synthetic smiles to his family, and spend the rest of the day mourning over his happy days. Days where he didn’t feel any weird butterflies in his stomach when hanging out with his best bud. Days when he won’t question ‘does he love me back?’ to himself over and over. Days when it’s only all friendly and sweet, rather than these days, where it’s only hurting from assuming his mate doesn’t return his affections. Their relationship’s going to be broken, all because of his stupid feelings.

It also seems like a stupid act. Keeping distance from your best friend so that you yourself won’t feel like shit since you want him to exclusively be yours. To be more than friends. Not considering that the other person will also suffer from your doings. It’s selfish. You were leaning away from him, he’ll think. You’re tired of him now, he’ll think. He’ll think and think.

He’s fucking himself up more and more. ‘Love never felt so good’, they say. He thinks it’s bullshit.


	2. Quarantine

Damon was silently gazing out of his bedroom window when his mother bawled, ‘Damon, lunch is ready!’. He snorted.

They know he won’t come down. He won’t come down unless he’s done piercing disdain through his being and bitterly isolating himself. He’s a wreck. An utter mess. Who knows that an innocent, mussed–hair lad has a power to turn his mind in disarray? Consider this; who can resist him? With him being shy and straightforward at the same time, with him being all caring and nervy at the same time and lots of other things Damon can’t simply repel from striking him. 

Of course, his parents are incredibly worried about his condition.

There were good days and bad days, the good ones are where he can have a chit chat with Graham and only feel a tinge of desperation, and the bad ones where he’ll perceive every agonizing drop of desperation and dithery towards his relationship with Graham. Being ill at ease on every subdued and lingering contact, he can only clench his jaw and slowly bob his Adam’s apple as he thinks that he’ll be fine once he gets over him.

Thing is, he’ll most probably never get over him.


	3. Inimical

It’s been a total of ten days since he has last seen Graham, a total of nine days since he has been spacing himself from Graham, and a total of three days since he has last seen another human being. 

It is unquestionably unhealthy. But you know what? He doesn’t regret it. After all, all these shitty tactics he’s doing is for the good. Since if he ever, you know, actually confesses that he’s grandly in love with Graham, it'll only lead to cheerless times. Since, you know, he doesn’t love him back? And he’s sure of it. He thinks so. It’ll only lead to being glummer than he currently is. He thinks so. You think Damon’s all dire and dreary right now? He’ll feel disastrous once he tells Graham what’s happening in his mind, the mix of fucked up emotions rattling inside his head.

So what, if all he does now is blankly stare at some blank ceiling that annoys the fuck out of him? At least he isn’t feeling any shite emotions while doing it. Annoyance is presumably better than the rest of the feels he is feeling most of the time. He deserves rest.

Leaning back against the headboard of the bed and began to stare at the ceiling, he hears another shout from his mother, exclaiming that he should really be eating properly. He is eating properly. The lid of the cup noodle he ate yesterday has a big ‘VIT C + VIT A NUTRITIOUSNESS’ plastered on it. The only thing that isn’t proper about him these days are his feelings, cleanliness, orderliness, feelings, motivation, and feelings. It isn’t doing him any good. Averting his gaze at the stack of cup noodles placed on a miserable corner isn’t doing him any good.

Hearing Graham’s voice telling him that he’s currently walking up stairs isn’t doing him any good.


	4. Climacteric

He’s practically paralyzed. Body glued to the bed. His eyes full of emotion contradicts his expression, and he swallows loudly. He clenches his jaw. Thoughts ramble rapidly and images suddenly appear throughout his mind; of him, of his mate, _him_. The memory of when he thought about confessing once to _him_. The memory on how he somehow found himself on a silent street, drunk and wasted because of _him. Oh_ , how he got lost in thought that day thinking about _him,_ all of _him,_ impure images that shouldn’t be at all appearing, fill his mind.

How about terribly bad timing, huh?

He’s currently in the middle of the process of his genius, really thought-out ‘how to leave Graham’ plan, and the events that are coming up isn’t at all par to his idea. This wasn’t part of the plan. Graham coming to his bedroom to see him have an episode wasn’t part of the plan. He shouldn’t be even having an upcoming episode right now, it wasn’t part of the plan.

Still staying in place and uncontrollably fidgeting, his eyes darts everywhere. To the annoying ceiling, to his trembling hands, to his boring dresser, and to his intimidating bedroom door. He doesn’t particularly like that intimidating bedroom door. Knowing that _he’s_ closely behind that white door settles a familiar stir in his stomach, and his breathing becomes turbulent. His whole face stings and his catatonic profile earlier now twists into wretched fear and rotten desperation, as he becomes unaware on how he mercilessly draws blood out of his bottom lip by biting on it.

“Hey, Damon!” A voice called out, and he faintly hears a series of obnoxious knocks.

  _Not now–Don’t –_

Damon’s heart was beating as fast as it could be, cold sweat drips down the side of his head, and the surroundings were moving. He couldn’t think straight, his thoughts transitioning from his troubling emotions to his moments with Graham–on how his best friend tends to peck his lips on his forehead when he gets himself lost in conflict and when he’s physically hurt. Graham–on how he tends to absent mindedly ruffle his hair and bite his nails even if Damon swats his hand away from his mouth countless times. His closest friend, Graham; that Damon’s head over heels falling in love to.

And he’s beating himself up because of it. After all, it is a bad thing, right? Nothing good will ever come out of this shit.

The door handle rattles. No, nobody can come in–the door’s locked. He’s safe.

“Damon, you do know that you taught me how to pick a lock.” A deadpan and unimpressed voice leaks from behind the door.

He takes it back; he isn’t safe. Y’know what, He can’t deal with this shit. He just can’t–he can’t. Not that he’s got any other choice, he’s practically cornered. But he still can’t and won’t deal with this shit. Ten days of isolating himself and avoiding Graham and it’ll just lead to this stupid ending? How about no? All these planning about precisely how he’s going to agonizingly split his ties with Graham, and now he’s going to ruin all of his hard work just because he’s having a stupid emotional breakdown? _How about no?_ He’s scared. Frightened. No, he shouldn’t see him in a state like this. _I shouldn’t have taught him how to pick a lock_.

 Graham’s the last person he wants to see. Yet, he’s also the first person he wants to be with.

A deafening monotone sound reaches his ear as he hears the handle turn, and his body abruptly jolts and clumsily throws himself on the hard floor.

Damon lands on all fours, gasps, swallows his saliva over and over and inelegantly tries to stand straight. The wooden door creaks open. He gasps once again, still hearing that unbelievably screeching noise, and it drives him _insane._ He sees a brunette with a mess of a hair peeking–and _oh no, oh fuckin no,_ no, no, _no,_ this– _this_ can’t be happening, no. But again, he’s cornered now, isn’t he? He can clearly see the boy whose he’s been trying to get away so far, can’t he? So, _yes,_ it is fucking happening right now. And _yes,_ his emotions are getting out of control right now. And he doesn’t know how to deal with it.

He eyes Graham, now fully inside, and in a blink of an eye, his surroundings doesn’t seem to make sense to him anymore.

Damon increasingly hyperventilates, the combination of not being able to hear properly and the ambient that was once clear turning into a blur was more than enough to swivel him in a state of dread and panic, his sensations getting lost. His knees have given up giving him the power to stand, and he thumps down the floor alarmingly, before Graham had the chance to hold him up.

Graham startles, a dumbfound expression briefly appears as he sprints towards Damon and lifts his upper body onto him and cradles his head frantically, a mix of shock and worry evidently arose on his profile.

“Dames,” he whispers breathlessly, “Dames, w-what–” his eyes study all over Damon’s face and began to bite his own lip nervously. He can hear the frightening sound of his friend’s rapid breathing, and it’s making him feel absolutely anxious.

“Hey–hey, it’s alright. C’mon. Look at me, hey, Dames,” He doesn’t know what do; _heck,_ he doesn’t even know how Damon got like this! All of a sudden Damon’s been ignoring him, and he doesn't know _why._ Then, the first time he sees him in the last ten days, he’s like this! Come on, what is actually happening? Friends don’t do that without a proper reason. Graham needs a reason. Part of him wants to be angry at Damon because of all this, and another part of him just terribly wants to hold him close, soothe him, kiss him on the forehead…

And outright tell him he’s totally in love with him this whole time, and that this shit Damon’s been doing to him doesn’t make sense, that it’s worrying the fuck out of him, that it’s hurting the fuck out of him, and please, _please…_ reciprocate the feeling, would you?


	5. Devolve

Graham clutches Damon’s quivering body as if he falls, everything’s going to crumble down. Being the precious and sensitive human that he is in Graham’s eyes, that kind of hold is quite necessary. Damon’s gaze was fixated on one thing; his own necklace. The necklace that matches Damon’s, the necklace that symbolizes their strong bond. He wonders, did he stare at it with such eyes since the very purpose and sign of the jewelry is now breaking? After all, that’s what he’s picking up on these days.

The silence is quite relaxing since Damon’s breathing had gotten more even. He’s mostly calm, and Graham got the chance of whispering soothing words against his temple as his friend’s head was resting on his shoulder.

They’re still on the floor, bodies tangled together. If Damon’s parents were to come in and get a glance at them, they’ll sure think of them as adorable. Two bodies tangled on the floor, moulding onto each other as if it was natural and on instinct. And yes, it actually is natural and on instinct. He feels worried that he’d done it on instinct.

As he began to softly glide his hand on Damon’s scalp, he feels him stir. “Damon?” Their eyes meet. Damon looks like a kid who had just got rejected on his plea to buy a toy. Graham thinks it’s real _cute._ But he really shouldn’t think like that. He can’t get more attracted to Damon than he already is, can he? The answer is no.

 He nudges Damon’s shoulder forward, getting a clearer sight of him, and worriedly questions, “What happened to you?” When he still just gets a stare, he proceeds to interrogate him. “I mean it–What the hell happened to you? Y’know, you can’t just avoid me like that! You–you also just almost freakin’ passed out! Do you even have an idea on what I’ve gone through? Wanna switch places with me? Then tell me how it _feels_ -“

“You done?”

“What?”

“I said, _you d-_ “

Graham thinks this is fucking absurd. “I know what you said! W-what? _What?_ Really, Damon?” He tilts his head and opens his mouth a couple of times to say something more, but nothing came out. He doesn’t like this staring competition they got going on, and he’s also _fuckin pissed_. ‘you done’ _really?_ That’s all he’s going to say? If that’s how it is, then _fine._

Still staring at Damon like he’s a bastard, which he actually is, he abruptly stands up. But then all of a fucking sudden, Damon’s bastard aura earlier just flicks into something that seemed to be desperate. Actually, no, _outright_ desperate and worried, and looks like he’s about to start damn sobbing because he’s goddamn _pouting,_ and all Graham does is blink before Damon grasps his hand tightly and eagerly pulls down.

Damon switches with Graham, and now he’s planking, supporting himself with his arms. Graham looks astonished beneath him, heaving, as his arms presses down flat on the floor and swallows.

Damon’s eyes were glistening, an unreadable expression plastered on his face. “I’m sorry.”

Graham still thinks this is fucking absurd.

Damon licks his lips, Graham stares. “S-sorry. M’sorry you felt that way. I-I’m sorry that you think I was acting like a bastard. I’m sorry that I made you think I wasn’t considering the consequences of my actions.” His eyes study his friend’s face, “But I have to say, I-I wasn’t doing it to hurt you. I was only doing it to protect myself from you. I know you won’t understand, bu-“

“W-won’t understand?! Of course, I fuckin’ won’t understand! How will I even understand if–“ Graham pushes Damon’s chest to make his attempt at a retort more aggressive and to move away, but only lead to Damon clutching his shoulder and sit-kneeling on his hips. He snapped his mouth shut.

That move wasn’t a good idea.

Damon moved his right hand up to Graham’s chin and tilted his head towards him. “I can’t, Gra. I-I can’t.” He shook his head, moving his upper body up and swung his arms by his sides.

The more Damon spoke, the more Graham felt utterly confused and furious.

Graham sat up, closely face to face with the blue-eyed lad. “You don’t just fucking avoid someone like that! You also don’t just fucking not tell the reason why, and expect me not to get curious and understand you!” He shouted, eyebrows knitted together. “I can’t believe you, Damon! I can handle the avoiding part–I can, yes, barely–but,” He held Damon’s face with his two hands, “Look–look what you’ve done to yourself…” Graham looks at him with such downcast, worrying eyes.

He drops his hands to Damon’s shoulders. “Can we–can we go back to normal, Dames?”

That’s all he wants as of now. To repair his friendly relationship with Damon. Fuck his feelings. Feelings get in the way. Feelings aren’t suitable for him. Not when it’s your best friend you’ve been having feelings for.

Moving his stare onto the floor, “I-I should go now,” He states.

Thing is, he actually can’t go now. He’s rigid, he can’t move.

Wanna know why?

Since you just don’t act all nonchalant and fine when a human you’ve been secretly in love for years presses his own lips onto yours.


End file.
